Stones and Stars
by Nanaille
Summary: Hikaru never met Akira, and never became a Go pro. Life, however, brings him again toward Go, many years after Sai disappearance.
1. Chapter 1

A/N : Loosely inspired by Hikaru no ramen, by Sakiku.

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><p>The door bell rang. Hikaru raised his head, and let the pile of books stuffing his hands fall heavily on the desk. He went to the door and opened it slightly.<p>

"Hey, Akari." His lips formed a small, yet true smile to greet his childhood friend.

"Hikaru." Her entire face was alight with the genuine pleasure to see him. "Can I come in?"

"Sure, come in. Make yourself at home" He left the door ajar and headed back to the living room. His bare feet made no sounds against the soft carpeting. "Sorry for the mess. I can't see the end of all these damn boxes." He kicked an empty one out of his way and slumped heavily on his couch with a weary sigh. "I hate moving."

Akari stepped lightly into his new apartment, throwing curious glances all over the place. "It's pretty decent for something you found in less than a week, I think. Do you need help to unpack your things?"

Hikaru shook his head. "No, it's fine, most of them will remain in a corner." He got up with a tired sigh and made his way toward the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?"

He put water on to boil, then tugged open the slats of the venetian blinds, allowing rays of sunlight to filter in, highlighting the touches of bright green decorating the room. The apartment had colours everywhere, and this was the reason he had chosen it, along with its sunny exposure. He opened a cupboard "I have some cookies too, If you want."

"Anything's fine," came the distant reply. He assumed Akari went to see the bedroom. Putting some water to boil, he disposed the cookies on a plate and walked back to the main room. "Don't look too closely at my underwear."

Akari laughed lightly while stepping back in the living room, "Please, it has lost all the mystery the thing could have since I'm doing the laundry for my boyfriend." Smiling, she slowed to peer out past the window. Her face was devoid of shadows, and it wasn't because she was standing in sunlight. He knew she was worried for him, but it couldn't be anything like the dark, cold anxiety that remained stuck in the middle of his heart, spoiling any moment of joy or pleasure he could snatch.

"Are you all right?" She was looking at him now, her brows furrowed. Shrugging, he sipped his tea. The flavour and the heat were soothing, and had the taste of lost, happier times.

Akari sat down quietly, grabbing a mug of the warm beverage, her gestures slow and careful. She seemed to be at a loss of words. Hikaru preferred it to be this way. He knew she really cared, but she couldn't really grasp how he was feeling these days.

"I'm glad you came back, Hikaru. I missed you all these years."

He let out a small smile and replied: "I'm glad too, but I have so many things to do that it's a bit discouraging." Waving his hand vaguely, he continued: "Finding a job, for instance."

"Ah yes, about that, Hikaru," she put her mug down on one of her knees. "Where I work, they're looking for a reporter. I spoke about you and they're interested by your background. They want someone reasonably good with a camera and with the english language. Having a good grasp of the game is a big plus." Her tone was cautious, like she was afraid to step over her boundaries. Hikaru stared at her, before diverting his gaze thoughtfully.

She was a graphic artist working for the Go Weekly, a specialized newspaper related to the game of Go. While he was abroad, they had continued to write to each other. She had even visited him once in Australia. Their childhood friendship bonds had remained strong over the years, and Hikaru had enough humility to recognize that it was mostly due to her constant, faithful efforts.

Go...This sounded so distant. He hadn't thought deeply about the game for almost two years, doing his best to avoid the inevitable pain going along with it. The old, familiar feeling of loss whispered in his mind. But somehow, its cutting edges seemed to have been blunted, probably by his current worries. Another feeling stirred at the bottom of his heart, unnamed, but it bore the faint flavour of wonder. Maybe it was time to confront old ghosts?

"It could be interesting..."

o][o

Applying had been a quiet and quick affair. After calling, the director had given him an appointment, where he had been told to expose the extent of his knowledge and savoir-faire. His journalism degree, along with the two years he had spent abroad seemed to please the director. The man had called one of his employee, a middle-aged reporter named Amano Kazuki, to ask him specific questions about Go and people related to it.

He must have fared well, because they had wanted him to begin the week after. And here he was, a bit nervous, in front of the building. Gold and rusty leaves whirled on his path, murmuring along the wind. Shivering, he raised his collar while looking at the building. He had told Akari he would go alone for his first day, and she had nodded without question, being the ever understanding friend she was.

Taking a deep breath, he went inside and reached the second floor, where an inconspicuous door with a discreet tag on it told him he had come to the right place. He rasped his knuckles in a perfunctory knock before entering, knowing no one would take the time to open the door for him.

The place was in busy disarray, with desks scattered everywhere without very much thoughts about organization. The magazine was small enough for not having to resort to ultra specialized employees, hence the obvious lack of departments. Hikaru was glad that they were looking for versatile people; it would make his job more interesting and diversified.

The young reporter spotted Akari across the room, near a huge window, in deep conversation with Amano-san. They seemed at ease with each other, and this fact alone said a lot about the man. He had seemed rather kind and respectful to Hikaru within the short span they had talked to each other, but it could have been merely a façade. Akari wouldn't be so relaxed if he was someone to be wary of.

The woman seemed to have put the door under surveillance because she spotted him immediately. She waved a welcoming hand and walked toward Hikaru with a sunny smile splitting her face.

"Hikaru! Here you are! Come on, I'll introduce you to the team!" Her voice covered the noise and everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look at Hikaru.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, the young man bowed and saluted until Akari reached him. She grabbed his arm and began touring every desk, presenting him. Hikaru felt a migraine slowly building behind his eyes while trying to commit to memory every names and functions and keeping his smile all along. Everyone seemed reasonably friendly and welcoming, and Hikaru sensed a small part of his anxiety drain away.

Finally, she stopped in the part of the office where there were more computers, far from the huge bay window. "Here's my desk. As you can see, I have two huge, fabulous screens to work with. This part of the open plan is more dedicated to us, techno geeks and generally young people." With an impish smile, she added, "Old men need natural light to see clearly, that's why they gather like moths near the window."

She turned toward a young woman, maybe in her late twenties, with a pretty heart-shaped face framed by a pixy haircut matching the mischievous glint inhabiting her eyes. She made quite a pair with Akari. She rose from her seat at their approach and bowed quickly her head with a smile.

"And this is Ueno Miki, our internet specialist. She's charged with the task to put some of our articles online, and since the director wants an English version of our website, you'll get to work together pretty soon."

"It's a pleasure," said Hikaru while bowing in response.

"She's an active member on few online Go communities to fish out crusty rumours about famous players. The internet Go has known a very spectacular development these years all around the world, and it's a good thing for the magazine to stay up-to-date about these new ways of playing and speaking about Go."

"Come on," interrupted Ueno-san, "The way you speak about my job feels like I'm some kind of spy." She turned fully toward Hikaru and added: "I'm very pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Akari-san has talked a lot about you. She said you used to play Go when you were younger?"

HIkaru nodded. "Yeah, I used to be pretty into it, but I almost never played outside my house."

"Don't lie! You actually were a big part of the Go club in middle school," chided Akari.

"Oh yeah, almost forgot about those times." He grinned. "That was the very beginning, when I had trouble to hold a stone correctly."

"You played online though. Had any handler with reasonably good stats back then? I have the habit to compile everything I can about Netgo players, so I may have heard of you?"

Hikaru couldn't picture himself telling about the handler sai, so he shook his head in denegation. "I was pretty average, I think."

"Beware; she's like an obsessive freak when she talks about internet legends. She might thoroughly annoy you if you let her!" Akari tugged lightly at his sleeve. "You'll have to draw the limit very soon, because I was told your desk happens to be just here!" She designated the piece of furniture placed alongside the wall, and indeed very close to Akari's and Ueno-san's desks. The way it was oriented would allow him to overlook the most of the open plan, with his back against the shelf and his computer screen away from prying eyes.

"Nice."

"I was sure it would please you." Akari was practically bouncing with cheerfulness. "Oh Hikaru! I'm so, so glad that you ended to work at the same place as me!"

The young man answered with a small, yet warm and genuine smile. Her sunny behaviour and radiating happiness were filling him with wonder. It was very childlike, but it was fitting the Akari he had always known. He still could picture her like this when they were both kids. She hadn't let anything rip off her exuding joie de vivre, and he could see that she was doing her best to share her optimism with people. Back then, the young Hikaru had been like this: cheerful, brash, and deeply believing that everyone was trying their best to make the world a better place for loved ones.

Life and hard times had since beaten some sense into his skull.

"Amano-san told me you'll be paired with him during your first month. There's a huge match in two day, so don't forget to charge up the battery of your camera."

o][o

Hikaru's mother was laying in her bed, seeming too small and too frail amongst the pillows and white sheets. He skin was pale, nearly translucent, letting shown wide, dark shadows around her eyes and blue veins running across her arms. Her eyes were smiling though, full of warmth and pleasure to see him. Hikaru had always wondered how he had failed to disappoint her with his choices, even when it had meant to leave her alone. True, he had chosen to leave for Australia when she had found someone to take care of her, but the decision had been so hard to take that he still felt the guilt gnawing at the back of his mind.

And now, he could not help but think it was the suffering she had been through that had given the cancer its devastating strength. Maybe if he had not left, she would have fought harder.

Thick rain batted on the window and the weak daylight conferred a rather gloomy atmosphere to the room. Hikaru was not very fond of hospitals, but he absolutely hated the department of palliative care. Everywhere, he could see death and hopelessness; in the eyes full of unshed tears of people walking blindly across the hallway; behind the always soft, unwavering smile of nurses and doctors who had seen too much to deeply care anymore; in the rhythmic, constant drip of the morphine draining away in his mother's blood like an ominous countdown.

Shindou Mitsuko was dying. The taut lines of her gaunt face were a testimony of the constant pain that seared in her flesh and bones. His mother was beyond tired, and to see her in this state put his mind into a raging, outraged state of mind. She had wanted to preserve him, and they had told him about her state only when the doctor had told them about her remaining lifespan. Short - so very short.

Hikaru's gaze flicked toward the third occupant of the room. The man seemed tired too. Genuinely worried. His haggard look and dishevelled state in this ever tidied man were speaking loud about his anguish. Hikaru knew on the intellectual level that Mori Seijuro was a good man, and was the best thing that had happened to his mother since her late husband had left her. But deeply, he was so angry they had chosen to keep him in the dark that he at times struggled to remain civil with him.

And it didn't help that a small voice in his head kept telling him he would have known sooner if he had visited more often.

Mori-san tilted his head in salutation with a tired smile, and bent to kiss Mitsuko on the forehead. "I think I'll go fetch me a coffee. See you later."

Hikaru settle himself in the chair near the window, and grabbed gently his mother hand. Her finger squeezed slightly his fingers, and he answered by a shaky smile.

This day, his mother seemed unusually alert, and her emaciated cheeks were coloured by a faint rosy hue. A stubborn liveliness was animating her eyes when she took in a rasped breath to speak.

"Are you well in your new home?"

He almost winced at the weakness of her voice, but kept a carefully open expression to mask his discomfort. "Yes Mom, I've almost finished to move all my things in. Few boxes are still at grandpa's place though."

She smiled, and it seemed to suddenly illuminate the room. "I'm so glad you've found a job so quickly."

"Thanks to Akari-chan."

"She's so sweet. Tell her to visit me some time; I'd like to thank her for taking care of you."

Hikaru winced. "I can take care of me perfectly, thank you."

"Yes, it's so easy at times to forget how my baby child has grown so much. I hope you'll meet soon a good girl to settle with."

"That's pretty far from my mind these days, you know," he answered with a wry smile.

She shrugged, and met squarely his eyes. "You'll get over it eventually, sweetie. Every child is bound to become an orphan one day."

"Why are you telling me this? It doesn't make things better."

"That's where you're wrong, and I learned that the hard way with your father's death. I think it would have been better to speak more about what happened. I made a mistake when I tried to pretend that nothing has changed much… But you coped, and I know today that you tried to cope for me as well." She shook her head, "I regret nothing, because that's what has made you the man you've become. I'm still marvelled at how well you turned out, and I still wonder where you found this inner strength."

Hikaru sighed. Each time he visited his mother, she tried to drag him into this conversation. She seemed to believe it would make her death easier, to put words on it before it had even happened.

It had been so different with his father. His death had hit them without any warning when Hikaru was in high school. An accident. A dumb, plain car wrack where the driver - his father - had lost control over the car. His mistress had been killed as well. They had been on unofficial holidays, when he had said Mitsuko and Hikaru that it was a business trip, like usual.

Sai -and Go- had been his way out the anguish brought by the pain and the humiliation. His father had never really be a part of the family, being always absent. But somehow, that had been making things twice harder when the neglect had been paired with obvious indifference for them.

"I had a really good friend back then." _But he left me, too._

"And Go? Will you get back to play? Even I can say you were really good at it. I spent so much time to watch you move these stones that I feel a bit nostalgic of those rainy afternoons when you would put the goban in the middle of the living room and start a game. Always alone, reproducing some past games, but you were so focused on it I swear you really were playing against some very tough opponent."

Hikaru looked at the window. A rainy afternoon, to cultivate our inner treasures. He had grown to appreciate the days when he couldn't go outside. Sai had taught him patience and dedication, and the capacity to take advantage of every moment.

And today, the moment was to be fully with his mother, not having his thoughts on the past.

"I wish… I wish I could do more for you, mom."

Mitsuko pated his son's hand. "Don't change anything Hikaru. You're there and I'm happy."

Hikaru nodded, and inwardly thought: _but soon, you won't be there for me anymore_.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I deeply apologize for the inexcusable delay - I'm far too lazy for my own good. I'm very very grateful for your kind thoughts.**_

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><p>Hikaru checked again his camera as he waited next the main entrance of the Japanese Go Association. He had arrived early and was quietly waiting for Amano-san. The match was scheduled at nine a.m., and he had almost two full hours to get in place before the beginning.<p>

Out on the street, it was a crisp autumn morning, and the sun was still under the horizon. He had left the subway a block early, so that he could walk with a cup of hot tea held to his face and enjoy the particular sensory pleasure of its heat on his lips and nose in contrast to the dawn chill in the air.

There was something about being in the city at this kind of time that agreed with him these days. Sounds were muted, colors were paler, and people were scarce. The low ebb of the early morning seemed to match his mood. Lately, he preferred its solitude.

The young man had put on a plain suit under his wool coat, the kind of attire which let him easily blend in the most of situations. As a reporter, he was susceptible to interview a large panel of people, and everyone was likely to answer more easily when they could relate to the interviewer. For this reason, he had disregarded his bleached bangs years ago.

He had trouble picturing the kind of people who played Go for a living, and deep down, he was afraid to not be sufficiently qualified to meddle in this small world where everyone seemed to know each other. Frowning, he mentally shook himself out of his insecurities. For him, Go was forever linked to the elegant and otherworldly image of Sai. No one could exude his level of dignity - when the ghost wasn't busy fooling around - , and Hikaru was convinced he couldn't be intimidated by anyone if he kept this memory in his mind. Consult of old issues of Weekly Go had taught him that while there were indeed old and traditional people, there were a bunch of young yet very promising players. Some were Hikaru's own age, and a few were even much younger.

Sun chose this moment to peek over the horizon and bath everything in a rosy glow. The dew gathered over grass and dying leaves sparkled like thousands tiny gems, conferring a very eerily aura to the area. Being a photographer, Hikaru jumped at the chance to take pictures of the building and its surroundings. They would make a fine job at illustrating any random paper about the Institute.

"Ah, Hikaru-kun!" someone called out. Hikaru put away his camera safely in its case and turned toward Amano-san. The man sported an open smile, and seemed to have rushed to arrive, if his slightly laboured breath was telling. "I can see you're already at work! Good, good, I'm sure you'll make a great partner in the future."

Hikaru bowed toward his co-worker and answered politely: "I was waiting for you, Amano-san. I look forward to working with you today, so please, take care of me."

"Of course! Anyway, it's time to take a good spot to see the match and collect reactions of the spectators." He rubbed his hands in glee. "It's a great occasion for beginning your career, young man. No doubt it will be a match of great quality, and everyone's impatient to watch it."

"Both players are surprisingly young for a title match," said Hikaru while pulling the heavy front door of the institute. "Does it happen a lot?"

Amano smiled knowingly. "More and more these times. It's very exciting to see this renewing. Currently, a lot of young players are attracted toward Go, it's a blessing for the discipline. Fifteen years ago, people feared that Go would be soon an outdated hobby, but now, the internet gave the game a new lease on life. It's very refreshing. The new wave is here, and it seems old players have trouble to keep the pace."

The man was saluting almost everyone they crossed in the hallway. A few minutes later, they arrived in a huge room with gobans set on tables and people around, chatting quietly despite the almost palpable excitation filling the atmosphere.

"Our readers like to know pros' thoughts about a big game," said Amano-san in a hushed tone. "It helps them constructing an analysis and orients them on the key moves of the game. While you are here, you'll help me gather everything you think will be useful to make a good report. Don't hesitate asking," he advised while pointing toward a group of young people. They seemed to be nearby Hikaru's age, and were seated around a table in a quiet corner. "Isumi-san and his friends are always welcoming. They are serious when they comment a game. Go ahead and present yourself, I'm sure you'll be well received."

Nodding, Hikaru thanked the man and ambled quietly toward them. They were four, three men and one woman, and all of them displayed a certain ease betraying long hours spent in similar situations. Having rehearsed lists and face of current pro players, Hikaru recognized them as belonging to the young generation of players. They were busy discussing a game, if the kifu held by the short one with glasses was any indication. Frowning and speaking animatedly, this one seemed to be annoyed at one of his comrades, a young man with hairs in disarray and a relaxed attitude, brows up and a taunting half-smile tugging his lips.

" -not saying that Ogata-kisei will definitely _win _today, but Touya hasn't be very impressive in their previous official match, Waya. See there and there!" he said while authoritatively pointing spots on the goban.

Shaking his head, the other man replied: "You can't say those are glaring mistakes, Ochi. Maybe those hands have led to Touya's defeat, but they could have been very effective if Ogata haven't been this careful."

The third man, tall and with chiselled good looks, had both hands in pockets and was leaning back on his chair, putting some distance between him and the table. _Must be Isumi-san, _thought Hikaru while taking a deep breath.

"Hello, Isumi-san? I'm Shindo Hikaru," he bowed, "Reporter for the weekly go; may I ask you few questions?"

Isumi-san blinked twice before putting a welcoming smile on his full lips. "Sure, why not? Go ahead."

Thankful, Hikaru grabbed an empty seat to get settled. «What could you say about today game? Do you know the players well? Which one you think will be the winner?"

"Hm, Ogata-kisei and Touya play against each other quite often. They had both beneficiated of the late Touya tutelage, and while Ogata is more experienced, Touya has those streaks of genius that could put the best players in danger. Honestly, I don't know who will emerge victorious this time, but the game is promising."

Hikaru recorded the declaration on his smartphone.

"What are the stakes?"

"Aside the loss or the win of the title you mean? Maybe a shift in current hold on power. The professional world is small, and battles aren't fully played over the goban. There is a large part of psychological game before each tournament, and older players like to intimidate new challengers. After all, you can't fight properly when you're persuaded deep down that you'll lose, no matter what. But that's not how you could properly describe the relationship tying Touya and Ogata. They know each other for a long time, and I know they respect each other as well."

"Hey, you're Shindo?" Waya interjected. Hikaru nodded, slightly taken aback. "I'm Waya Yoshitaka, Akari's boyfriend! She told me you'll be there today! So, you'll write something in the Weekly Go? You have some notions about the game, she said, but some notions won't be sufficient for a title match. Come sit over there, I'd love to read something pertinent in a game review for once, so listen carefully and take good notes." Baffled, Hikaru turned toward Isumi, who smiled apologetically as he gestured encouragingly toward the table.

"We'll be glad to comment the game for you, Shindo-san. This is Ochi and Nase, fellow professionals."

"Thanks for your proposition, I won't be a hindrance."

"Deal then," answered Waya while facing the screens displaying the match room. Both opponents were settling themselves in front of each other, goban between them. «It'll begin soon."

o][o

Silence was dominating everything. In the muffled atmosphere, only the discrete _pa-chi_ of stones set on the goban was perceptible. The battle was ferocious and without mercy. The two opponents had their gaze riveted on the Go board, and very few signs of nervousness were displayed. Still, Touya's shoulders line seemed tense, and Ogata kept pushing his unmoving glasses in place.

The tension was even perceptible in the room where the audience was attending. Hikaru had taken few pictures of the spectators, and was back sitting near Isumi and his friends. They were chatting quietly, yet excitingly about hands and strategies used by Touya and Ogata.

"I don't understand the purpose of this stone placed here. It looks like Touya wants to pull a trap, but it's far from his usual style, and lack elegance, no?"

"I'm not sure either, that's not quite like Touya… Maybe the purpose is somewhere else? The battle in this corner seems almost done anyway."

Hikaru was wondering as well. It had been years since he had last pushed himself so hard to read a game. He had trouble to maintain on the front of his mind a clear structure. Strategic lines and critic points blurred often, and he had to make conscious efforts to barely understand the fight.

Yet, he was able to see that the level displayed here was magnificent, with beauty hidden behind every move. The two men didn't share even one glance. They had their gaze riveted on the goban. The shapes made by the stones were being unfolded slowly, reflecting the clash of will of the two players. The moves were clever, and behind the clear difference between the black and the white, intent and objective were obscure. Outwitting the opponent was the key, and patience, along the capacity at reading the game in a large scale, were skills that could lead toward victory.

Hikaru hadn't had the occasion to see often such interesting games in the past. On the internet, a lot of different players could be played against, but very few hadn't lost their bearing against the ghost. Sai hadn't often been pushed to demonstrate his full maestria. Without opponent in flesh against him, Sai hadn't bored to play shidou go, and trashed ruthlessly anyone who dared to test their hand against him. Hikaru might had been completely disgusted with Go if the Heian ghost had been like that with him, but Sai had been a great teacher for him, accompanying his growth with subtle, yet strong tutelage.

Near the end, Hikaru had been able to throw everything he had against Sai, and had the satisfaction to feel that the ghost had to seriously push himself to remain victorious. Sai had taught him everything: analysing, strategies, reading, and slowly, the same thinking pathways had been forced upon his young, flexible mind. Playing against Sai had always been more like a dance, rather than a fight, where beauty resided upon intent and purpose was an inner battle where he tried to outwit himself. Sai had remained an unwavering victor, until their last game together. Hikaru had been still for a full minute, eyes glued on the goban like his own, disbelief coloured by a sense of accomplishment pervading his thoughts.

Sai had smiled then. Not his usual, silly smile, no. His lips had stretched into a sad, wistful line, and his gaze went to lose itself in a deep emptiness.

If Hikaru had known then, he would have done everything to keep Sai from disappearing. But this night, he had gone to bed like usual, feeling light and content. He remembered seeing, just before falling in slumber, Sai's silhouette turned toward the window, contemplating the night. Moon had bathed him in a silvery glow, washing out every colours, until he disappeared completely, like turned in starlight.

So many years since, and he had thought time had dulled the sadness.

But nothing was forgotten, nor healed.

Maybe it would be better to remain far from anything related to go. When he was in Australia, his teenage years had sometimes felt very distant. There were even times when he had doubted that the ghost had been indeed real, and wasn't a mere illusion created by his young and lonely self. The only physical proof of Sai's existence resided in hundreds of kifus stocked in boxes. Today, he couldn't deny the authenticity of the sharps feelings conjured by the situation. Facing them was like trying to pick up the cutting shards of his heart with bloodied fingers.

Face still, hands firmly set over his knees, he forced himself to come back to the reality. The game seemed to be nearly finished, and Hikaru had unfortunately tuned out every comment a while ago. It would be hard to make a proper review with pros insights only concerning the first part… Well, maybe Waya would be disappointed again about the quality of the paper. He wouldn't be the one to write it anyway. But Amano-san counted on him, and Hikaru wasn't too keen to disappoint the man on his first day. He shrugged mentally. Maybe he could wrap something pertinent later with the record.

o][o

Hikaru was seated at his desk, chin in his hand, while skipping leisurely in the hundreds or so pictures he had taken in the morning. There were few portraits of the protagonists, who appeared fairly lost and focused on the game. Hikaru couldn't help but feel a strange emotion while seeing all these people who had dedicated their entire life over a game. His own experience at Go had been limited to Sai and internet: he had never played outside his house and never met someone alive across a Goban.

These times seemed very far, deep in the haze of faded memories. He wasn't even sure if he could play again a good game, as he struggled to project mentally even the simplest strategy. Go seemed to have only left impressions on him, the feel of the stones gleaming on his palm, the sharp sound made by the shell hitting the hard kaya, and the world fading behind the matrix formed by the stones, like constellations drawn over the dark sky.

He would have to choose the perfect shot to illustrate Amano's paper. It was the first draft, and the reporter had made a fine job at transcribing the stakes of the match and the reactions it hadn't failed to make inside the pro world. Yet, Amano seemed totally outclassed with his detailed review of the game: he had put here and there what he and Hikaru had gathered about thoughts of various pros, but it obviously lacked the deep understanding and foreseeing needed to explain what had happened precisely.

Hikaru winced internally few times while reading the paper: it wasn't patently wrong, but it was clearly far away from the key points. Disregarding the document and putting it on a corner of his desk, the young man took the kifu and replayed mentally the game, trying to put himself in the shoes of the two opponents.

Hikaru was marvelled and a bit baffled by the pure skill displayed by the two opponents. Each one had shown a style that spoke of a long experience brought by countless battle against multiple opponents. While very personal, the two styles were showing a deep understanding of each other. There were few hands here and there destined to counter strategies before they were even played.

In front of such a beautiful game, Hikaru felt his throat constrict. He had forgotten how much a game of Go could be so full of meaning. Behind moves and intent, he almost could draw a rough characterization of each player. This one was prudent, patient and deceitful, and this one was more aggressive, putting continuous pressure on his opponent. Hikaru could see something almost intimate displayed across the board. It was a dance, a share of will intertwining in white and black. Each game was unique; each game was a legacy of two minds confronting each other to make something more, something almost spiritual.

Touya had won this time, therefore taking the title of kisei from Ogata. The battle had taken three major turns before finally entering yose. It has been a close call for Touya, but he had taken the upper hand with two clever moves, set fairly early in the game. Hikaru didn't remember any of the bystanders pointing this particular fact, but he couldn't see how to review the game without explaining these hands. Hikaru was pretty sure that Touya's strategy had been based on those. They were at a first glance -and even at a second- fairly common and expected, but they had been played over few other possibilities which have could be better in short term view. Yet, these ones have revealed themselves terribly effective in positioning Touya over Ogata during the end game. This kind of play spoke of true mastery, where a game was considered on the largest scale.

Tired and in a need of a walk, Hikaru rose on his feet and crossed the bullpen toward the corner next to the huge windows, where he could make himself some tea. Waiting for hot water, he threw a glance outside. Nightfall was near, heralded by dimming sunlight, and sharp shadows outlined buildings against the sky. Rusty leaves were dancing and falling in whirls, while passers-by walked in a brisk pace, hands in pockets and nose in scarf to preserve them of the cold. Hikaru had lost his tolerance for cold temperatures, and was glad to be inside.

Cold hands warming against his cup, the young reporter stepped quietly back toward his desk. He was wondering how he would fare against such marvellous players, and those thoughts reminded him how Sai would literally beam at the prospect of fighting a strong opponent. The young reporter could understand now the yearning for someone who could bring out everything of his opponent. Himself had lost all interest in Go at Sai's disappearance: it had been all too painful at first, and then, when the ache had dulled, he couldn't bring himself to play against some random player over the internet that would lack the magnificent play of the Go genius.

Reinvigorated by the hot drink, Hikaru began to throw random notes to explain the best he could how he understood the game.

o][o

Hours later, Hikaru raised his head, wincing when pain jolted through his stiff neck. Darkness enshrouded the office. Few lights were still on here and there, and typing sounds were easily discernible, indicating that few people were still at work. It would be soon the time when he had to return home, but the perspective wasn't that appealing. Akari had left sooner, offering him to spend some time with her and her friends, but he had declined, too caught up by his analysis to stop.

Now, he had finished to patch up something which seemed to be alright. He would submit it to Amano-san the next day.

Stretching, he felt the bones of his back satisfyingly popping in place. Now would be the right time to go out and drink, but that wasn't something he usually do all by himself. In need of distraction, he peered over his computer screen, and saw that Ueno Miki was still at her desk, her petite frame totally engulfed into the big office chair with her knees up directly under her chin. She seemed to be engrossed by something happening on her computer.

Curious, Hikaru stood up and casually strolled toward her, "Hey, Ueno-san. May I intrude a bit?

"Shindo-san! No one waiting for you back home? Sure, come over." She reached for his sleeve and tugged. "Look, I'm watching an internet game. One of the players is known to be the japan top amateur, and his adversary is sure faring well! How exciting!"

"You're often online like this?"

"Every day, I even have the application on my smartphone. The way of playing the game had deeply changed over the last two years or so, it's incredible how the internet contribute to spread Go all over the world. It's easier for players to found someone matching their skill and for amateurs to watch interesting games. And who knows what you could meet on internet, since Sai, things aren't the same."

Hikaru, mildly interested by the conversation until now, felt a rush of adrenalin when hearing the name.

"Sai? Who's that?"

"A legend, a myth, nobody knows," Miki let a mysterious smile stretch her lips. "A player, active for seven years, and who never lost a game, despite playing against some of the top professionals of many nations. No one knows who he is, and why he had disappeared this suddenly six years ago, but today, his kifus are almost religiously compiled, there are fan sites entirely dedicated to him." With the fervour easily detectable in her tone, Hikaru strongly suspected that Miki was a fan girl herself. He almost winced in embarrassment. "He's a model for many young players today, and Go has known a great renewal, partly because of him."

While aware at first of a kind of popularity of Sai when he logged on Netgo by the sheer number of requests immediately following his connexion, he had soon taken care of the problem in disabling the possibility of challenging him. The routine had soon consisted in searching of the players online with the best statistics and sending requests for a game. Those went never refused, and Hikaru knew now why. He had never been interested in the online community, because he hadn't felt he had the right to speak on the behalf of Sai. Each day, they were content to ritually playing two or three games on Internet, and then to play against each other's. Hikaru himself hadn't felt the need to confront him against other players, feeling intimately that Go was part of the special relationship he cultivated with Sai.

"I - I didn't know Go could arouse such strong feelings in people," Hikaru said, wondering if himself hadn't misunderstood a part of what constituted the game. Sai had obviously dedicated his life - and his after-life - on Go. It wasn't farfetched to think that other people could feel the same about it. And himself? Unease suddenly pervaded his mind, when a half formed thought emerged suddenly. Had he been betraying Sai's memory when he had stopped completely playing the game?

"Yeah, scary, isn't it? But when you think about it, it's this kind of passion which allows us to get paid each month. Thank god, life isn't all about serious and boring matters."

Hikaru nodded, kind of stunned.

Curious how life could slap you at any moment.

Miki continued, on a roll. "There are true experts of Sai's play - for a lack of anything else - out there on the internet. Some say he's even a machine, a well programmed software, but those who really count say the style is too human, with a real growth in both skill and style. His early games were very old-fashioned, like he wasn't aware of modern rules." Her face suddenly took a faraway look, almost melancholic.

"Anyway, myths like those are good for business. People love mysterious and exciting stories, but it's kind of sad that no one knows who Sai is - or was, and what happened to him."

He had no idea. Even the simple thought that Sai had affected so many lives was overwhelming. In his heart, a small, warm light lit up suddenly. Sai hadn't existed only for him, but for hundreds, maybe thousands, of people. Sai couldn't be resumed only by Go and his games, but it was a large part of what had shaped him. And Hikaru could see so many things defining Sai behind a game; a certain gleam brightening his purple eyes, half smiles hidden behind his fan when he was ridiculously proud of himself, slight bows of his head when he acknowledged a particularly good play from his opponent, and so many other mannerisms.

And yet, knowing that so many people had honoured his memory while he had failed spectacularly to do so, made him very disquieted. In a certain way, Sai had been his, belonging to an intimate universe, something impossible to share, even when they were playing in the living room where his totally oblivious mom was.

This evening, Hikaru came home late. In his shadowy, lonely apartment, sounds coming from the outside were muffled. For once, he didn't turn on the TV, needing to be alone with his thoughts. Sprawled in his chair and hands joined by the tips of his fingers, he spent a long time staring at the home page of Netgo.

The cursor blinked in the login box, regularly and unfailing, like the echo of a heartbeat.


End file.
